Bowtie
by Ambiguous Love Letter
Summary: It's the unflattering things that you love.


I apologize profusely for the shoddy fluffiness of this. But I refuse to apologize for my ship. I sail is alone and I sail it proud.

Prompt fill for areyouagod's kinkmeme.

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><p>It is pajama-clad and with the overly-cautious step of one who refuses to fully wake just yet that he comes to lean on the door, saying without preamble "Eg'n I don't care if it's a working Saturday, you promised me you wouldn't blow things up before noon on Saturdays."<p>

"If I planned explosions, Peter," he looks up over his glasses at the disgruntled man in question, "they would begin at six AM on _Sundays"_ he emphasized, "and continue throughout the day, at my leisure and at no predictable interval, if for no better reason than to bother you for nagging me."

Peter blinks slowly, too tired to catch his – albeit crude, vague and incredibly lame – double entendre. The hint of a smile on his lips and a pleased lilt to his voice as he continues "But they wouldn't be as fun if I planned them. Besides, I dropped a book." He pointed to the book in question, its contents spread shamelessly on the floor, quite thick and perfectly capable of making a boom from where it had apparently fallen.

"Well, loud noises… was implied. In that agreement."

"Forgive me, Peter. It was an accident."

"They usually are… I think."

"Usually."

At that Peter shakes his head, likely to disguise a smile, and raises a hand as he turns to leave, his message received and his bed calling.

As soon as the door clicks closed, Egon lets his head fall back with a loud sigh. "Felt like he'd never leave…" hands slipped under the desk and his chin met his chest, his smile coming in full. "Were you _trying_ to get me caught with my pants down?"

Ray sets his chin on Egon's knee, hands playing idly on his thighs. "I had confidence in your iron will."

Egon gives a pleased hum, brushing back through Ray's hair before coming to rest on his neck, one tapping finger asking his attention up top. Taking his cue Ray lifts himself, sparing no space between them. Though before lips meet a thought bubbles up "Should lock the door."

"Ah, right." Then the meet, and Egon's off on the short and uncomfortable jog to secure their privacy.

Ray watches him and snorts a laugh. "Comfortable?"

"Very." He says as he retakes his seat and the other man's upper half back into his lap. Hands return to the sides of his head, fingers falling into old habit as they toy with his ear. "You don't have to stay under the desk…"

"No, but I have a soft spot for nostalgia… even grossly embarrassing, awkward nostalgia." Tilts his head and uses Egon's pants to scratch his nose.

An affirmative sound as he continues to stroke Ray's ear, just behind the lobe. Strangely, the thing he remembered most about that timeframe was that Ray had had a brief stint with bowties. The one for this particular memory had a red and black plaid pattern. Not one of his better choices, but charming.

Pads of fingers trace up his abdomen to be captured and laced with as lips return to the work of their most intimate caress, drawing a heavy breath from Egon.

His mind, in a brief betrayal, backtracked to another time when he'd worn that same bowtie; the first time he'd shown Egon his downright comical ability to control his saliva. Such a bizarre memory, he can't help but laugh, drawing Ray's eyes up to him.

"Nothing, nothing, I just…" smooths a palm over his forehead, disturbing his curl, and fails to suppress another chuckle.

Perhaps it's infectious or perhaps it's that telepathy he's so convinced they share, but it gets Ray laughing too, and the sound that comes out around a mouthful of his partner is so unflattering and the feeling of it is so peculiar that before either knows it, they're spiraling into a fit. Egon scoots the chair back so he can lean down, pressing their foreheads together.

"My apologies…"

Ray shakes his head, body still alive with amusement. A beat is taken for each to admire the way eyes crinkle and lips strain to stay over teeth. "Let's try that again…" heads part again with a kiss and Egon's fingers are curling in Ray's hair, gripping what little they can, firm but not painful. Carried into the main event by the remaining bubble of mirth in his chest.

Hollow cheeks and fingers teasing little circles. Touches slick and soft, familiar but somehow unpredictable. Tension felt so many times before, a pleasant kind of pain building in the base of his spine, causing it to curl, his body to shift. Control slipping away from him, his own breath loud in his ears. The soft sweet utterance of a name.

Release is a gently spreading warmth creeping up his body, making his joints feel lose and his mind at ease. Closing his eyes and relishing another shared laugh.

Then they're jarred back to reality by the shriek of the alarm. There's a scrambling of feet and the chair, and stumbling over the poor book forgotten by the desk, tempered by an agreement to come down separately, and the promise of returned favors.


End file.
